NEVER BROKEN BEYOND REPAIR
As life unfolds, we experience
reversals and setbacks, usually unexpected, sometimes unthinkable. Satanic suggestion says recovery is unlikely,
or even impossible. As a result, many
choose the avenue of apathy, never living according to God’s magnificent design
– merely existing. Others develop deep
roots of bitterness, passing through days in cynical contemplation of what
might have been, or might never be.
My friend, no matter what
your natural senses suggest about your predicament and possibilities, GOD has designed
you as HIS MASTERPIECE. So never quit,
because GOD is not through with you yet!
Recently, I read an
intriguing true story. One of the
greatest ambitions of any violinist is to play a Stradivarius. Meticulously handcrafted by Antonio Stradivari,
these rare violins produce an unrivalled sound. So we can envision the excitement that the
acclaimed British violinist, Peter Cropper, felt when London’s Royal Academy of
Music offered him a 258-year-old Stradivarius for a series of concerts in 1981.
But then the unimaginable happened. As Peter entered the stage he tripped, landing
on top of that rare violin and snapping its neck completely off! We cannot even begin to imagine how Peter
Cropper felt at that moment. A priceless
masterpiece had been utterly destroyed by his clumsy act.
Peter Cropper was inconsolable.
He took the violin to a master craftsman, doubting that he might be able
to repair it. But repair it he did. So perfect was his repair that the terrible break
was totally undetectable; and, more importantly, the sound quality was even
more exquisite.
The Academy was most gracious and allowed Cropper to continue using
the Stradivarius. And so, night after
night, as Peter drew his bow across those incomparable strings, he was reminded
of the fact that what was once thought to be irreparably damaged had been fully
restored by the hand of a Master
craftsman.
Peter’s unanticipated
experience reminds me of my Mother’s favorite poem, which is entitled “The Touch of the Master’s Hand,” by
Myra Brooks Welch. It happens to be my
favorite also.
‘Twas battered and scarred,
and the auctioneer
Thought it scarcely worthwhile
To waste much time on the old violin,
But he held it up with a smile.
“What am I bidden, good folks,” he cried,
Thought it scarcely worthwhile
To waste much time on the old violin,
But he held it up with a smile.
“What am I bidden, good folks,” he cried,
“Who'll start the bidding
for me?”
“A dollar, a dollar. Then two! Only two?
Two dollars, and who'll make it three?”
“Three dollars, once; three dollars, twice;
Going for three…” But no,
From the room, far back, a grey-haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow;
Then wiping the dust from the old violin,
And tightening the loosened strings,
He played a melody pure and sweet,
As a caroling angel sings.
The music ceased, and the auctioneer,
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said: “What am I bid for the old violin?”
And he held it up with the bow.
“A thousand dollars, and who'll make it two?
Two thousand! And who'll make it three?
Three thousand, once; three thousand, twice,
“A dollar, a dollar. Then two! Only two?
Two dollars, and who'll make it three?”
“Three dollars, once; three dollars, twice;
Going for three…” But no,
From the room, far back, a grey-haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow;
Then wiping the dust from the old violin,
And tightening the loosened strings,
He played a melody pure and sweet,
As a caroling angel sings.
The music ceased, and the auctioneer,
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said: “What am I bid for the old violin?”
And he held it up with the bow.
“A thousand dollars, and who'll make it two?
Two thousand! And who'll make it three?
Three thousand, once; three thousand, twice,
And going and gone,” said
he.
The people cheered, but some of them cried,
The people cheered, but some of them cried,
“We do not quite understand.
What changed its worth?” Swift came the reply:
“The touch of the Master's hand.”
And many a man with life out of tune,
And battered and scarred with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd
Much like the old violin.
A “mess of pottage,” a glass of wine,
What changed its worth?” Swift came the reply:
“The touch of the Master's hand.”
And many a man with life out of tune,
And battered and scarred with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd
Much like the old violin.
A “mess of pottage,” a glass of wine,
A game — and he travels on.
He is “going” once, and “going” twice,
He is “going” once, and “going” twice,
He's “going” and almost “gone.”
But the Master comes, and the foolish crowd
But the Master comes, and the foolish crowd
Never can quite understand
The worth of a soul and the change that is wrought
The worth of a soul and the change that is wrought
By the touch of the
Master's hand.
Remember: Neither your
life, nor the life of your loved one, is broken beyond repair.
Sisters and brothers, be continually
blessed, and please (above all else) MAKE SURE YOU ARE READY TO MEET OUR SOON
COMING KING. Maranatha!
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